


Forged in Flesh

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, Beta Derek Hale, DIY Medical Procedure, Gen, Scarification, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:17:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Alpha, Beta,Omega—we can rise to one or fall to another.





	Forged in Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered about the circumstances of Derek's tattoo. Here's an imagining of how it could have gone. 
> 
> Written for Laura Hale Appreciation Week, day two: Alpha Laura.

 

Derek was stretched out on his stomach, lying on the tiled floor when Laura walked into the kitchen. She paused in the doorway and withheld the sigh that wanted to escape. Instead, she finger combed her hair back and up, tugging the elastic band around her wrist over her hair to tie it back into a sloppy bun.

Laura went to him and planted one foot on either side of his hips.

Looking down at him, Derek seemed so much leaner and grown up than he had only eight months ago. They spent everyday together, but in that moment, Laura felt as if she was seeing him for the first time since the fire.

“You’re _sure_ about this.” She asked the question even though she could smell his determination, and despite the arguments they’d had since he first brought it up.

Derek pillowed his head on his folded arms and didn’t bother looking over his shoulder when he answered curtly, “yes.”

She remembered those shoulders when they were bird thin and set to a cocky angle. They were weighed down with so much more than just youthful excitement now. Laura didn't know if she would ever be able to help carry the burden that pressed on him.

The black ink of the tattoo between his shoulder blades was already bleeding out of the skin, inky and thin. He’d left the tattoo parlor less than an hour ago, and if they didn’t do it soon, the entire thing would be healed over and gone. 

Laura lowered herself until she was sitting on the swell of Derek’s ass and swept her hands along the expanse of his back. He was warm, skin soft and alive. She wanted to keep him safe from hurt and harm.

She really didn’t want to do this.

“Okay,” Laura picked up the mask and hooked it over her head, leaving the shield up for the moment.

The hiss of the blowtorch and snick of it catching light was loud. The fire hurt her eyes, this close, but she stared at it for a long moment before flicking down the mask with her free hand. She grit her teeth and pulled her knees in tight so they gripped Derek’s hips. He barely moved enough to breathe.

Everything was dark through the view of the mask, but she could still make out the simple triskele. It felt surreal to lower the blowtorch to Derek’s skin. She watched the spidery, dark smoke that twisted up as she slowly and carefully moved the directed fire to trace the tattoo, sear the ink into his skin permanently.

Less than ten seconds into the process, Laura started blinking back the tears. They weren’t at the house when the fire was set, when almost every member of their family was killed. But the smell of burnt flesh had lingered in the air afterwards. The scent didn't leave her until they made it out of California. It felt like she was still running from it, from the loss a stupid accident caused. Laura was pulling Derek and he was pushing her.

Their once strong pack, was now barely a whisper to the roar the Hale pack once was.

Laura braced a hand on Derek’s flank, and leaned forward. The heat coming off the blowtorch was almost too much. Both of them were sweating, the beads slowly dripping into her eyes stung. She followed the curves of the triskele, careful to do a thorough job. Blood ran from the tattoo as she held the blowtorch to his skin; it dried, and flaked away under the intense heat.

Beneath her, Derek was tensing and making aborted movements. His body was clearly fighting against staying still for this. She wanted to offer to stop. She knew he would say no.

Derek growled, something heartbreaking and low. He was in pain. Snaking her free hand under the mask, she quickly wiped away the moisture around her eyes so she could focus. The smell of freshly burning flesh clung to the back of her throat, sticky and thick. She rolled her lips to keep back the need to gag, swallowing it all down. How long would she be haunted?

Burning the triskele in didn’t take as much time as she thought it would. Less than twenty minutes, and it was complete. Laura shut the torch off and set it aside before throwing the mask to the corner of the room. Running her hands down either side of Derek’s shoulders, Laura felt her eyes shift to their alpha red. Seeing that symbol on her brother’s skin—on her beta’s back—tugged at her, deep inside.

_Alpha, Beta,Omega—we can rise to one or fall to another._

She thought she could understand why Derek chose to mark himself. It was an offering, a reminder, a promise.

“It’s done.” Her voice was deeper than usual, rough. She leaned down and kissed the back of his neck lightly.

He smelled like _home_ and _them_ and _pain_ and _loss_. Laura closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, as she dragged her nose up the nape of his neck until she could bury it in his hair. She felt him moving below her, twisting to elongate his spine and give her more room. His hand reached back to find hers, and they wove their fingers together. Her chest pressed against the triskele, and she could swear she felt it to her very soul.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [tumblr](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


End file.
